It's the Simple Things
by Dahls
Summary: Alfred always wanted to be a hero, Matthew always needed one. Love can be so simple sometimes! Americest AU. Starts out in childhood, will run all the way to adulthood. Rating will change as the two become more mature.


**AN:** This was intended to be a one-shot, originally...but then I realized exactly how much I wanted to do with it, so I decided to make it a series.

Oh lord another AU series. I feel like I'm going down a slippery path...but childhood romances are just so cute, right? It starts here, somewhere in elementary school, and when the time comes for the series to end, the two will be graduating from college. You guys ready for a bumpy ride?

I'm not sure if that French endearment _ma puce_ is correct, but I read somewhere it was an endearment for children. Don't correct me, I really don't care. Ugh, French. ;;  
><em>EDIT: Uh, 'kay, it was corrected, and then uncorrected, and then corrected again. FRENCH DOESN'T MAKE SENSE TO ME, YOU GUYS GOTTA HELP ME OUT. D8<br>_

Please, request if you want a certain pairing to appear somewhere in the series! Americest is the main, Spamano will be appearing later on, the rest is up to you guys!

_Warning, contains super close child friendship of the boyxboy kind._

* * *

><p>Coming upon a realization, a little boy sat up in his bed. He quickly fumbled to put his glasses back on, trying to brush the messy blond hair out of his face with a small hand.<p>

His father's study was a silent, serious place. Then the exasperated little boy came tearing into the room, breaking any sense of calm that might have existed.

"Daddy, how do you show someone you love them?"

Arthur looked up from his papers, rumpled suit rumpling further as he turned in his seat. His son stared up at him, blue eyes wide and innocent. The British businessman raised a brow. "Why do you ask, son?"

"Because!" The young blond smiled. "I wanted to show the people I love that I love them!" If Arthur had a pound for every time his boy ran in asking something of a notion like that, he'd have enough to start up his own company and buy a new car to match it.

Leaning back in his chair, the Brit scratched his cheek. "Well, I guess it depends, son." He picked up little Alfred, hugging him close and placing a peck on his forehead. "There's friendly gestures." Alfred giggled, cuddling into his father's chest. "You can also give gifts I suppose," Arthur said, pausing for a moment. "You have to be careful with that though. Sometimes people think you're trying to win over their affection."

Alfred gaped at his father. "Who would do something like that? That sounds mean...!"

"The world is full of mean people, Alfred." Sighing, Arthur hugged Alfred a little bit tighter. "You're such a sweet boy, but remember that not everybody is as nice as you." Alfred nodded enthusiastically, causing his father to grin. "So tell me. Who are you trying to force your feelings onto now?"

"There's this boy that moved here a week ago," Alfred began casually. "He's really shy and never really talks to people, and all of the other kids kind of ignore him. Plus, when we all wait for our parents to pick us up, he's the only one who stays for such a long time...he said his father is really busy, so he's always left waiting by himself and...and I don't want him to feel alone!" Arthur stared at his son, shocked, but his son just beamed. "I want him to feel like he's special, like someone's always there for him!"

The Brit wasn't sure how to respond. He let the boy go, Alfred hopping down to his feet and looking up to his dad for approval. Slowly, Arthur scratched his head. "Well...I suppose, son. It's nice that you want to help this boy, just...try not to go overboard like you usually do, alright?"

"I don't go overboard!" Al huffed and crossed his arms. "I just go further than most people would dare to! And that's because I'm a hero!"

Arthur laughed, ruffling his son's hair. "Alright then, go be a hero for him."

About 10 minutes later, in a house a few blocks over filled with the scent of croissants, a small child walked into his father's study, a curly strand bouncing in his face.

"_Papa_...?"

Yawning, the French businessman sat up, rubbing his eyes and turning to his little boy. "Hmm? Something the matter, _Mathieu_?" The boy shyly looked away, wringing his hands in his lap. Francis picked the boy up, holding him close and kissing his forehead. "You can always talk to me about anything, _ma puce_."

The tiny child clung to his father's shirt. "_Papa_, how do you show someone you love them?"

"Depends," the Frenchman said, leaning back and chuckling. "Are you madly in love?"

"Um...maybe," Matthew mumbled quietly, burying his face against his father's neck. "I want them to know I am grateful for them."

Francis tapped his chin, holding the boy close with his free hand. "I suppose gifts always work, though they might think you're just using them or-"

"I-I would never want him to think that...!" The little boy bit his lip, eyes wide. "I just..."

His father raised a brow. "_He_? Who?"

"Alfred," Matthew confessed slowly, keeping his face hidden out of embarrassment. "He's always so nice to me, and I don't know why, but..."

"It starts so young these days," the Frenchman mumbled, shaking his head. "_Mathieu,_ do something you think he would like. If you like him, then you have to do something that comes from your heart!"

"But I don't know what...!"

Francis pressed a kiss to the boy's head gently again. "Just think it over. It should be something heartfelt, something that only you could give him."

Matthew thought long and hard, curled up comfortably in his father's arms until an idea hit him. He quickly hopped down, mumbling a "Thank you papa!" before running out. Francis simply smiled and went back to work.

* * *

><p>Diligent in his mission, Matthew carefully chose every color, making sure to always color inside the lines to absolute perfection.<p>

Alfred made a face. "Mattie, that's so boring!" With little to no grace, Alfred grabbed the nearest crayon and began scribbling like a madman over the Canadian's picture. Matthew, who would have been upset a month or two ago, had grown accustomed to it and just sighed. Alfred laughed and smiled. "See? Now it looks awesome~!" Matthew nodded and began coloring the next section of the paper, careful to mind Alfred's trail of destruction.

Without warning, Alfred leaned over and kissed Matthew on the cheek. The poor boy stood up in alarm. "W-What are you doing...?"

"Showing you I love you!" Alfred said innocently, still grinning from ear to ear. "What else would I be doing?"

Matthew opened his mouth to respond, but another voice answered for him. "Stupid, that's not what you're supposed to do!" Both turned to the newcomer, a young boy with brown hair and the weirdest curl either had ever seen. "You're supposed to take them out to dinner and buy them flowers and chocolates! And you only do that with girls!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "How would you know anyways, whoever you are?"

The boy scoffed. "I'm Lovino, my grandpa is Italian! He's a master of romance, and-"

"We're not in Italy, and Mattie's not Italian! He's American or somethin'!" Matthew quietly corrected him in the background, but neither of them heard him. "Besides, Mattie's not a girl, so obviously you gotta do different stuff!"

"You're dumb! A boy can't love another boy! It doesn't work like that!"

"Says you! I'll show you you're wrong!" Alfred stood up and grabbed Matthew's hand. "Mattie, you love me, right?"

Matthew blinked. "I-I...Of course, Al!"

Sufficiently pleased, Alfred grinned again and enveloped his friend in a big hug, nearly knocking them both over in the process. Lovino just snorted and stomped off. Watching the grumpy child leave from the corner of his eye, Alfred let go when he was sure he was gone. Putting his hands on the other boy's shoulders, he stared his friend straight on, blue eyes meeting violet. "Do you really, Mattie?"

"...Yes. I do." Matthew gave a reassuring nod, though whether it was for Alfred or more for himself, he didn't know.

"Forever, Mattie?" The Canadian blinked, a bit stunned by his friend's seriousness. But, if a goofball like Alfred could be dedicated, so could he, right?

"Forever, Al." With yet another grin, the American pulled the timid other close, hugging him tightly and spinning him around in his embrace until Matthew cried for release.

Quietly, their teacher watched the two boys hugging, smiling softly to herself. Elizabeta chuckled. The next door teacher, Roderich, frowned disapprovingly as he watched. He had walked in to speak to his colleague and witnesses the heartwarming, though somewhat questionable exchange. "Are you really going to allow that?"

"Why not?" Elizabeta continued giggling. "It's just a childhood romance. You didn't stop those two boys in your class the other day. Little Feliciano and the child who keeps chasing him..." When Roderich gasped indignantly and tried to form an excuse, Elizabeta just laughed with renewed vigor. "Oh, just leave them alone! I think it's cute!"

Roderich shook his head. "At least email their parents and make sure they're alright with it, I suppose." Elizabeta rolled her eyes, but began writing her email, chuckling all the while.

* * *

><p>Alfred waved goodbye to Matthew, hoisting himself into his father's car. As he watched his friend disappear from sight, his father cleared his throat.<p>

"Son, I got an email today while at work." Alfred blinked and looked up at his father, confused. Arthur kept a straight face. "Your teacher said you were harassing another student?"

"Nuh uh! Did not!" Arthur glanced to his son, skeptical.

"Something about paint in a boy's hair and a punch to the face?"

He thought about it for a minute, but a smile began to spread across his face. Alfred laughed. "That was just that stupid Russian kid! He's a big fat creep anyways, and-"

"Alfred!" The little boy winced at the harsh tone, quickly realizing his father didn't find it as amusing as he did. "I told you to stop doing this! I don't care how much you don't like someone, you can't keep bothering other people! It's not right!"

"But dad! He was-"

"What was it this time, Alfred? Was he 'looking at you funny'? Did he 'take the crayon you were so totally going for'? You can't do something every time someone does something you don't like!"

"Dad!" Arthur continued his lecture, reciting nearly every excuse Alfred had used before, going on and on and on, until Alfred finally clenched his fist and yelled, "He was being a jerk to Matthew!" The Brit stopped, looking to his son. Well, that was a new one. "First he was saying weird things, like, 'We're going to become one,' and then he pushed Mattie into the mud, and then he sat on him, and...and...and then I dumped a container of paint on his head, and then he grabbed me, and then I hit him in the face, and then Mattie got the teacher, and then we went to time out, and then we got yelled at, and then-"

"Alfred," the boy's father said gently, pulling up to their house and setting a hand softly on his son's shoulder. "I know how much you like this boy, and he looks like a nice kid. But...you can't resort to violence to solve your problems all the time, no matter who it's for or how justified it might seem."

The little boy frowned. "Dad, that's not fair! He started it, and...!"

Arthur smiled a little, ruffling his son's hair. "Think about it this way, Alfred. Do you really want to be as bad as that 'big fat creep'?" The child opened his mouth to retort, but realized he couldn't really say anything to that. The Brit kissed his son on the forehead. "I know it's hard to control yourself sometimes, Alfred, trust me. I had a phase like that too, believe it or not." Alfred could easily believe it. "But the sooner you get over it, the better. Violence always makes everything worse in the long run. Promise me you won't fight anymore, alright?"

The small American pouted and resigned. "Whatever you say, daddy." Arthur lifted him and hugged him, tickling his sides until the boy was roaring with laughter. "Come on. How about we get burgers for dinner tonight, okay?"

"Awesome! Thanks, dad!"

Around the same time, maybe five or ten minutes later, Francis pulled up to the school, hopping out of the car and picking up his child. "My dear _Mathieu_, you look a mess!" Matthew looked away in shame. His clothes were splattered and stained with mud. "What happened to you, _ma puce?_"

The curly haired boy frowned, tears beginning to form at the memory. "I...I got pushed into the mud..."

"Oh no!" Francis hugged his child close, disregarding the mud smearing onto his suit. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you at least punch the little monster pack?"

Matthew hugged his father back, clinging tightly to him. "He sat on me too. He was really heavy...and then...Alfred hit him."

"How kind of him! At least the little bully got what he deserved!" Matthew continued to frown though.

"The big kid was about to hurt him, so I got the teacher, but then Alfred got in trouble too...and then Alfred punched him again when they got out of time out."

The Frenchman laughed cheerily before planting a kiss on his son's forehead. "I got an email that you and that Alfred boy were getting rather cozy with each other during class, too. Seems like you two had an exciting day?~" Matthew smiled softly and cuddled against his father's chest. Francis softly wiped the tears away from the boy's eyes. "Come. I'll give you a nice bath and clean up your clothes, and then we can have pancakes for dinner."

"Pancakes for dinner, _papa?_"

"You can have pancakes whenever you want, _ma puce.~_"


End file.
